


Passing Strangers

by siriusblue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Explicit Sexual Content, Lonely Mycroft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Greg Lestrade is a high-end escort. His newest client is mysterious and knows a hell of a lot more about Greg than he should.





	Passing Strangers

PASSING STRANGERS

 

Summary: Greg Lestrade is a high-end escort, his newest client is most mysterious. Smut ensues.

 

A/N: This came out of a comment on a picture I saw this morning which basically said ‘I feel like this is the start of some AU hooker!fic”. I couldn’t not…

 

 

Greg Lestrade waited in the street, the ticket machine solid against him as he leant on it. His days of streetwalking were long behind him as everything was done over the internet now, however his latest client had been quite specific about where and when, so he waited.

 

He wore a conventional suit under his overcoat. If the police happened by they wouldn’t clock him for what he actually was. He had learned that lesson very early on in his career. Now he looked like a tired, silver-haired businessman waiting for a taxi. He checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed, prepared for every eventuality, you never really knew what to expect.

 

A long black car drew up beside him and the passenger door window slid down with an expensive purr.

 

“Get in,” said a deep, cultured voice and Greg obliged, climbing in the back.

 

The first sight of his new client was encouraging. Late forties, Greg guessed, slender with dark red hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a three-piece suit that probably cost more than Greg’s mortgage, handmade shoes and an honest-to-goodness pocket watch. Greg had, in his time, got it up and kept it up for some of the ugliest, smelliest blokes he had ever met. One who knew how to dress and smelled nice was a great big bonus in his eyes.

 

His client seemed amused at his staring.

 

“So,” said Greg, licking his lips. “Are we doing it here, or do you have somewhere?”

 

The other man looked offended.

 

“Certainly not here, I have a hotel room booked nearby.”

 

Greg shrugged. It made no difference to him either way as long as he got paid. Speaking of which…

 

“You will be extremely well paid for this.”

 

That answered that question.

 

 

They arrived at the hotel and Greg discreetly followed his client, slipping into the lift at the last moment.

 

The room itself was perfectly fine, it had a huge double bed, mini bar and wide-screen TV but Greg only had eyes for the man standing in front of him as they both stripped off their coats and suit jackets. This was a crucial time, this was when you found out exactly how vanilla or how kinky it was going to be. Greg had heard and done almost everything in his time so he waited patiently for the other man to speak. He seemed nervous, fiddling with his cufflinks and not making eye contact.

 

“What’s your name?” asked the man.

 

“Er, George, “he replied. The other man sighed.

 

“If we’re going to fuck, you should at least be honest with me. I know your name is Greg Lestrade, I know you were born in June 1963 in Islington. I know who your parents were, I know where you live.”

 

Greg felt his mouth drop open and closed it quickly.

 

“How?”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Just if you were thinking of trying to rip me off or blackmail me in any way…”

 

“I’d never do that!” exclaimed Greg. “You don’t last long in this game if that’s what you go around doing.”

 

“I suppose not. Forgive me for not being au fait with the honour code of whores.”

 

“I’m leaving,” said Greg flatly. He didn’t need to be held captive by some moralising nutter.

 

“No, please don’t. I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before…”

 

“You don’t say.”

 

“I brought you here to buy your services, not lecture you. Forgive me.”

 

That made Greg blink.

 

“Sure. So, what turns you on?”

 

“I want to fuck your mouth. Then I want to fuck you.”

 

Greg had to admit, it sounded hot delivered in that posh voice, a voice that trembled ever so slightly as if it couldn’t quite believe what it was saying.

 

“Whatever you want,” said Greg, moving closer to the man and dropping to his knees.

 

He unzipped the other man’s fly, easing the half-hard cock out of his boxers, grasping the base while sucking the length of his client till he was completely hard, never breaking eye contact, enjoying the breathy moans of the other man, tasting the sweetness of his pre-come. He felt hands grasping his hair as his client’s hips shot forward, thrusting deep into his mouth over and over again. He braced himself for a deluge of semen but it never happened, his client pulled away from him, breathless and trembling.

 

“Get on the bed,” he commanded. Greg complied, stripping off his clothes as he went, all too aware of the client’s gaze on him. He looked after himself, all those gym hours were essential when this was how he made his living. He lay on his back, watching the other man get undressed, stroking his own erection as a layer of pale freckled skin was revealed and the client joined him on the bed.

 

“Face or front?” asked Greg.

 

“Front,” said the man decisively. “I want to watch you come.”

 

The client opened the drawer in the bedside table and produced a tube of lubricant and a condom. He quickly rolled it onto his dripping cock before slicking his fingers and sliding them, one at a time, into Greg who moaned softly at the sensation. It had been a long time since anyone had penetrated him, Greg realised. He had almost forgotten what an intrusion it was. He was slippery now with sweat and lube so he merely sighed when the client placed his legs over his own shoulders to expose him and eased his erection deep into Greg’s body.

 

He very quickly found the perfect angle and the perfect rhythm and Greg biting his bottom lip to try and hide just how much he was enjoying this.

 

“Touch yourself,” ordered the client, angling himself enough to make Greg cry out.

Obediently he grasped his own erection and stroked it, their mingled sweat making his hand glide easily and it didn’t take long before he climaxed in gushing spurts over his hand and stomach. It was enough for the client; with a deep moan Greg felt him come and he collapsed onto Greg, panting heavily, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes dark with fulfilled lust.

 

He slowly eased out of Greg and lay beside him, his breathing returning to normal. Greg sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his underwear.

 

“Do you have to leave?” asked his client.

 

“Come and go, that’s usually my motto,” said Greg with a smile.

 

“Will you stay with me?” asked the client diffidently. “If you haven’t got any other pressing business, that is?”

 

“I can pay you anything you want,” continued his client in the face of Greg’s silence.

 

“No, it’s not the money. Are you lonely? Is that why you want me to stay?”

 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I normally manage all right, but sometimes the need for human companionship is more than I can bear. So, will you?”

 

“Yes,” said Greg simply.

 

They showered together and Greg’s client straightened the stained and crumpled bedsheets before climbing back into bed with Greg spooned up behind him.

 

“What’s your name?” asked Greg. “Seeing as you know everything about me, it only seems fair.”

 

His client laughed and turned slightly.

 

“Call me Mike,” he said. “Goodnight.” And he reached over and turned out the light.

 

Next morning Greg awoke and knew, instinctively, that he was alone.

 

On the bedside table was a pile of bills, two thousand pounds in crisp fifties. And a note.

 

TILL THE NEXT TIME. M.

 

 

The End.


End file.
